


As Predicted

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Awkward Blow Jobs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, F/M, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Sherlock Being Annoying, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Tease, Sherlock has a pretty mouth, Sherlock is a sexy arrogant bugger, Sherlock loves annoying John, Sherlock loves his chair, Some nameless woman, Woman character unimportant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John tensed as he saw Sherlock over the head of the woman whom at that moment in time was sucking him off...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heh...hehe...hehehe...Oh, Sherlock!

John tensed as he saw Sherlock over the head of the woman whom at that moment in time was sucking him off, and blanched, gripping a handful of her hair tightly. Sherlock arched his eyebrow at the sight, chewing on a cupcake as he wandered silently over and pointed at where John was sitting with a sudden frown, wiggling his fingers at the fact that John had been pushed down onto Sherlock’s chair. John glared and with his free hand tried to wave Sherlock away irritably, motioning to the woman in his lap and then pointing for Sherlock to leave with a red face, his eyelids fluttering a second later as she did something wondrous with her tongue that made him wheeze and groan breathlessly. Sherlock tilted his head in interest and crouched behind her, bending flexibly to try and see what she had done, taking another bite out of the cupcake in his hand, licking icing from his fingertips and the corners of his mouth.

“Do you like that?” The woman, who’s name had completely escaped John’s memory, asked throatily as she pulled off to suckle and kiss at the head of John’s erection.

John blushed hotly and wondered whether it would be better to stop everything and shout at Sherlock and push him away, or to hope Sherlock took the hint and went away on his own and let her continue. If John did the former, he knew she’d be outraged and probably leave after she found out that they had an audience, and John would have to deal with himself alone and furious. John hadn’t had any sexual contact for two months; he didn’t want to have yet another angry or frustrated wank alone in his bedroom.

“What are you looking at? Are you okay?” She asked, having had lifted her gaze to see him staring behind her. Sherlock straightened and jumped silently behind John’s chair the moment she frowned and turned her head to look back.

“Nothing,” John grunted, stroking her cheek and smiling as she glanced back up at him. “You, er, you just made me see stars for a moment there. Heh, you’re really, really, good.”

She smirked and sucked him back into her mouth with a moan, and John gritted his teeth as Sherlock leaned over the top of John’s chair to give him a disgusted look and roll his eyes. John waved him away again and sat forward a little when she reached in to fondle his balls with soft and eager fingers, his face flushing with pleasure despite his embarrassment and irritation at having his best friend and flatmate watching him getting a blowjob. Sherlock took another bite out of his cake and watched, dropping his eyes to her bobbing head with intrigue. 

John panted and gripped the armrest as she teased him very slightly with her teeth, tonguing at the underside of the head of his cock and then lapping at the slit with skilful swipes that made sweat bead on John’s forehead and his fingers tighten on the armrest and in her hair. Sherlock scowled and gestured for John to stop abusing his chair, walking around from behind John’s chair to gesture more intensely, popping the rest of the cake into his mouth at the same moment. John glared up at him and then suddenly couldn’t stop staring at Sherlock’s mouth as Sherlock licked icing and crumbs from his lips with quick and then long flicks of his tongue. John groaned and closed his eyes tightly, rutting into the woman’s mouth a little as he turned his head away and breathed heavily through his nose, pulling his hand from the armrest to touch her shoulder. He hoped and prayed that Sherlock would be satisfied enough to leave them in peace and let John enjoy the rest of his blowjob.

The woman pressed up at his perineum with clever fingers and John twitched in pleasure and moaned loudly, opening his eyes to see that Sherlock was still in the sitting room with them. Sherlock blinked at him and then lifted his eyebrows, making a suggestive motion with his fingers in question. John rolled his eyes and bucked when she rubbed at his perineum again, increasing the suction on his penis in the next second and taking him deeper with a groan. John whined lowly and Sherlock made the same motion with his fingers petulantly, wanting an answer to his unspoken question, and John lifted a hand from the woman to flip him off.

Sherlock smirked and made a lewd gesture of a finger going into a private place just as she slipped her fingers between John’s buttocks naughtily. John tensed and grunted, shuddering and swearing at Sherlock again, waving for him to leave frantically as he got suddenly closer and closer to orgasm the more she teased and played with him. He tried to hold back, not wanting to lose himself in front of Sherlock, and glowered heatedly at his friend, rigidly pointing to the door for Sherlock to leave.

Sherlock wriggled his finger knowingly and the woman did the same, pressing and stroking around John’s anus. Sherlock stuck his finger into his mouth and John whimpered as the woman tugged her hand back to do exactly that; he stared down at her as she wantonly sucked on her digit, coating it with saliva before she grinned at him and replaced her wet finger at his backside. John gasped and peeked up at Sherlock with a deep blush, watching as Sherlock predicted her movements perfectly and twisted his finger slowly.

“Sher—” John groaned warningly before he cut himself off and cried out in sudden orgasm as the woman pushed her finger inside with a wriggle that Sherlock was foreseeing with his own pale, lean finger, which writhed near the curling of Sherlock’s lips as he smugly gazed at him. John stared at Sherlock until his eyes rolled back and he bucked, moaning out a quick warning to the woman even as he ejaculated roughly against the back of her throat. His orgasm was so powerful that John trembled and winced, feeling sore as his cock jumped and throbbed in her mouth.

He slumped back afterwards and the woman pulled her finger out and her mouth away, licking and lapping at him until it became too much and John hissed with hypersensitivity. She smiled at him and sucked on her finger, then leaned towards him, kissing him passionately and tilting her head to deepen it with a playful curl of her tongue. John glanced passed her with a glazed vision and saw that Sherlock had finally left them alone as he languidly returned the kiss and sighed with a quiet moan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh...I had to.
> 
> Silly chapter because I'm in a silly mood.

John stormed through to Sherlock’s bedroom once the woman had left sometime later and stared at Sherlock with a red face and flexing fingers, his entire body shaking with annoyance and embarrassment. Sherlock was sitting on his bed cross-legged, with his laptop balanced on his knees, and casually lifted his head to look at John with arched eyebrows. He looked nonchalant and bored, and it only made John seethe harder.

“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” He demanded, swinging a taut arm roughly towards the sitting room. “What was that, Sherlock? Why did you just…just…why, Sherlock, just why?”

“You better not have left any…evidence on my chair,” Sherlock replied once John had stopped to breathe deeply and angrily. “Why on earth did you not steer her into your bedroom? Must you really do such things in the living room of all places? I work there.”

John’s left eye twitched and he stamped over and slammed Sherlock’s laptop closed, throwing it aside and grabbing Sherlock by his collar. He swung Sherlock bodily around and half off the bed and then just stared at him as he fumed silently. Sherlock blinked up at him and then shuffled and pushed John back a step as he slipped from the bed to stand tall in front of him, tilting his head at John and then huffing loudly.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just come to me in the first place, then this whole situation wouldn’t have happened,” Sherlock told him.

John frowned and shook his head in confusion, still gripping Sherlock’s collar, “What?”

Sherlock gestured to John’s crotch, “If you wanted a blowjob, all you had to do was ask, John.”

John choked on a sudden and sharp inhale and let Sherlock go, stumbling back, “What? Are you…mad? Sherlock, why on earth would I ask you to do it? I’m not gay! I don’t want your mouth…there! Jesus Christ…I can’t believe you—what is wrong with you?”

“I don’t mind,” Sherlock said flippantly. “I’m the most logical choice. I’m good with my mouth and hands and I have brilliant control over my gag reflex—”

“Oh! Oh, God, just…stop, stop talking! Stop!” John exclaimed, uncomfortable as he backed towards the bedroom door. “Sherlock, are you hearing what you’re saying right now? Are you high? Have you lost the plot?”

“I’m better than her, trust me,” Sherlock continued. “I would have made you climax far quicker.” 

John flushed in embarrassment, “I…I didn’t…it was only because I’d not had anything for—no, no! We are not discussing this! You are not telling me all this…we…we never spoke. This conversation, and the scene before it, never happened. Okay?”

Sherlock squinted at John and then took a step closer, “Would you like me to show you?”

“No!” John said highly, tripping over his feet as he dashed for the bedroom door. “Sherlock…this…this isn’t funny! If this is some sort of joke…”

Sherlock walked over and then slipped down to his knees before John fluidly, cupping John through his trousers with one hand and flicking open John’s buckle and trousers with deft fingers of his other hand. John jerked back and knocked clumsily into the door, falling against it awkwardly and shutting it as he pushed up against it, staring at Sherlock owlishly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and shuffled towards him, hooking his fingers into the waistband of John’s loosened trousers with determination.

“No!” John shouted, grabbing hold of them with both hands. “Sherlock, what…what the hell are you doing?”

Sherlock looked up at him with an arched eyebrow and dropped his hands, “I hope you’re being deliberately stupid.”

“I don’t want you to…to…to suck me off! Why would I want that? I’m not gay! How many more times? Do I have to have it bloody tattooed to my forehead? It’s absolutely fine that you are, it really is, I’m glad that you told me but…I’m not, I’m definitely not, and you can’t just…just…” John stammered, stumbling over his words as Sherlock gazed at him from his place on his knees. “Jesus…get up.”

“You have an erection,” Sherlock stated.

John frowned and shook his head, “No…no, I don’t—and if I do, it’s not because of you. I did just get a blowjob by a very good-looking woman, Sherlock. A woman I made out with before she left, I might add. A woman I…I—you know what, you don’t need to know any more details; you clearly saw enough in the sitting room. God, why did you think it was okay to just waltz in and watch me?”

“Put it in my mouth, John.” Sherlock rumbled, swaying forwards on his knees, his eyes still locked on John’s.

“No!” John retorted, reaching out to shove Sherlock back by the forehead but ending up gripping Sherlock’s hair instead. “Sherlock…I swear to God, if you don’t get up off the floor—”

Sherlock touched John’s knee briefly, “Do it.”

“No!”

Sherlock pushed his head up against John’s hand and then reached to take his other, relocating it to cup Sherlock’s cheek. John tensed and shook his head, feeling the way his cock hardened and throbbed painfully in his underwear in humiliation, tenting the material obscenely from the open zip of his trousers. John felt dizzy and mortified and glanced at Sherlock as he slipped his long fingers around the waistband of his pants again. John watched, frozen and shaking, as Sherlock tugged the fabric down slowly, almost freeing John’s aching erection until he let go abruptly. 

“Did you clean it afterwards?” Sherlock asked.

“Wh-what?” John breathed, blushing hotly at the sound of his voice. “Clean it?”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and with a sudden shift, pushed up to his feet, dislodging John’s hands quickly, “She slobbered all over you,” he said in revulsion, moving back to his bed. “Wash it first, then come back—wash it thoroughly too. I don’t want to put my mouth there unless you do, that’s disgusting.”

John gaped at him and spluttered, then gripped the handle of the door, wrenching it open and rushing out when Sherlock opened his laptop again without so much as a glance in John’s direction. John slammed the door shut behind him and briskly walked to his bedroom with a wince, promising himself to never bring it up or think about what just happened, ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

Although John had tried to forget, he just couldn’t, and he knew he would never be able to, not when he flinched and jumped to his feet whenever Sherlock bent down or shifted lithely to his knees for something in the flat or at a crime scene. It was becoming so obvious that even Lestrade had noticed John’s weird behaviour, and had questioned him about it on numerous occasions with concern, and then deep suspicion when John had tried to wave his worry away poorly with a tremor in his voice and a shifting of his eyes. John had never been that much of a good liar when the thing he was trying to keep quiet affected him and embarrassed him as much as what Sherlock had done did. 

However, Sherlock had kept quiet about the entire thing and had not brought it up, in fact, Sherlock had hardly looked at John since the incident, and John wasn’t completely sure if he liked that. John knew he should be happy that Sherlock was acting as if it never happened, and that maybe he had actually gone and deleted it altogether, but as much as he knew he should be joyous, he was frustrated and angry instead. He had been since that day, constantly scowling and fidgeting with irritation. How dare Sherlock watch him getting oral sex so calmly, and then offer it again so brazenly? John tried to grasp onto the fact that at least he knew Sherlock’s sexual orientation, that he had been right in his assumptions, but even that didn’t distract him from the way Sherlock had so easily slipped to his knees with a passive face and jaded gaze, as if he was bored of John’s refusal.

John pulled a face and shuddered at the memory, and leaned back from Annie, kissing her gently as he adjusted himself above her and gazed down her nude and writhing body. She smirked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair attractively mussed on his pillow, and then rolled them over to sit astride him. They had sex that way, with her undulating above him and his hands on her hips, but just as John was losing himself in her soft curves and moist, tensing, heat, he happened to glance at his door. It was wide open and Sherlock was standing in the doorway looking sulky and annoyed. 

John bucked roughly with a jerk in response and Annie moaned and giggled, arching her back and closing her eyes. John gaped at Sherlock and then scowled deeply, trying not to grip too tightly to Annie’s hips, as Sherlock lifted the empty mug clutched in his hand and tapped it irritably with his fingertip, gesturing next for John to hurry up so he could make Sherlock some tea. John, as he had before, tried to wave Sherlock away with a flush of his cheeks, sitting up in the guise of kissing Annie’s neck to mime the words “Get. Out,” as vehemently as he could. Sherlock wiggled his empty mug again and then frowned, looking Annie over with sudden interest, his brows knitted as he noticed that Annie was not the same girl that John had received the blowjob from the week before and motioned as such with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh! You must really like this position,” Annie moaned breathlessly into his ear, “You’ve gotten harder!”

John blushed suddenly and pressed his mouth together to stop an impulsive exclamation from escaping his throat when Sherlock arched his eyebrow and took a step into the bedroom. John tensed with wide eyes and watched with growing anger as Sherlock put down the mug, ignored John’s attempts to demand he leave, and regarded them silently, his eyes flitting down to where John was buried inside her.

Annie rocked a little harder eagerly and John grunted with pleasure, breathing heavily against her shoulder and staring at Sherlock who smirked slowly at John and puckered his lips the same exact moment that Annie kissed his neck. John felt a wave of angered frustration hit him and he reached between their bodies to skilfully stimulate her clitoris, glaring at Sherlock heatedly as he did so. Annie gasped and writhed, and John worked harder, his sexual experience out in full form as Sherlock blinked slowly at him and tilted his head with attention.

Once Annie cried out in orgasm, John pushed her gently aside, pulling out of her, and watched Sherlock quickly retreat. He jumped to his feet with a mumbled excuse and left the girl shaking and squirming in pleasure on his bed as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms and stormed after Sherlock.

“Oi!” John hissed as he followed Sherlock down the stairs and through the sitting room. “Sherlock, get back here!”

Sherlock turned and looked over his shoulder just as he strolled into his own bedroom, leaving the door open with a quirk of his mouth. John stuttered to a stop a few feet away and frowned, fuming and shifting on his feet. He glanced back, thought about Annie, and then turned and walked into Sherlock’s bedroom without a backwards glance.

“Sherlock, we need to talk,” John started as he turned to confront Sherlock whom was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting patiently. “This is just stupid now. What the hell are you up to? Once, I can overlook…slightly, but twice? You purposely opened my door when you knew that I’d be…busy.”

“Shut my door,” Sherlock told him.

“What? No. No, I’m leaving it open,” John retorted, folding his arms over his naked chest, suddenly a little self-conscious when Sherlock’s eyes shifted to his shoulder. “Are you listening to me? You can’t keep watching me in sexual situations. It’s not on! What is this to you? Some experiment? Is that it? Are you…documenting what I do, what the woman I’m with does? What are you doing?”

Sherlock pursed his lips in mock thought and then nodded towards the doorway, “Shut my door.”

“No.”

“Please—”

“You opened my door, I’m leaving yours open,” John interrupted childishly, arching his eyebrow when Sherlock closed his mouth and looked amused, then nonchalant as he shrugged.

“Very well,” Sherlock muttered before raising his voice. “If you wanted penetrative sex, John, all you had to do was ask.”

John blanched and then span around, slamming the door shut with a glare, “Shut up! What is wrong with you?” he exclaimed. “Sherlock, how many more times do I have to say this? I. Am. Not. Gay! That’s why there is a woman, in my bed, not a man!”

“Would you like me to perform fellatio on you instead?” Sherlock asked. “You never did come back to me after you’d cleaned yourself.”

“That’s because I didn’t want a blowjob off you, Sherlock!”

“Yes, you did.” Sherlock sighed, as if John was overly naïve.

“Where is this coming from?” John asked in confusion, flushing with anger when Sherlock slipped to his knees slowly. “Sherlock—don’t you bloody dare! You better stay right where you are; we are not doing this again! I don’t want this; I don’t want you! Do you hear me? It’s fine that you’re gay, that you—”

Sherlock huffed in bemusement, “Who says I’m gay?”

“What? You did! You’re offering to suck my dick, Sherlock,” John said, trying to keep his voice down and his irritation just as low, fighting the heat from his cheeks. “You even said that you were good at it, that you’d be far superior than…than…”

“Still can’t remember her name?” Sherlock laughed, shuffling over on his knees until John backed up against the door, once again. “But I am far superior.”

“How do you know that unless you’ve sucked dick before?” John asked with a slight sneer before he grabbed Sherlock’s reaching hands. “No! No, don’t you—get away from me, Sherlock!” 

“You still have the condom on,” Sherlock commented with a wrinkle of his nose. “Take it off.”

“N-no! No, Sherlock, seriously, back off,” John demanded, adjusting his grip on Sherlock’s wrists and throwing his head back with a choked and garbled sound in the back of his throat when Sherlock pushed his mouth to the bulge of John’s trapped erection. “Sher—Sherlock! Don’t! This is…this is basically sexual assault… harassment…I should…punch you…in…your smug…gorgeous…face…”

Sherlock exhaled hotly through John’s pyjama bottoms and then leaned back, looking up at John, “Let go of my hands.”

John shuddered and scowled fiercely, but did as he said and breathed deeply through his nose, clutching at his waistband when Sherlock motioned to it. John shook his head and scrambled for the door handle, pushing Sherlock backwards with his knee until Sherlock wobbled and fell onto his backside with a look of frustration, throwing up his hands somewhat.

“I…I don’t want it,” John told him lowly. “I didn’t want it then, I don’t want it now, and I’ve never wanted it. I. Am. Not. Gay. I don’t in any way, shape, or form, find you sexually attractive or…or anything like that!”

“John?" Annie called softly from upstairs. “John, are you okay? Hey, listen, it’s okay! That happens to a lot of men! Nothing to be embarrassed about!”

John grit his teeth in humiliation and opened his mouth to call to her, but stopped just as Sherlock righted himself on his knees again and brushed down his trousers and shirt, as if he’d sullied them in his soft fall. John glowered and knocked him back again, peevish and immature, and grinned when Sherlock glared up at him.

“John?” She called again.

“Yeah! Yeah…” John replied, half turning to the closed door at his back. “I…it’s nothing like that! I’ll be up in a moment—”

Sherlock’s fingers made his breath catch and he jerked into the door, snapping his gaze back down to where Sherlock was kneeling again, curling his fingers around the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Sherlock flicked his gaze up, smirked softly, and yanked them down to John’s ankles, exposing John’s condom wrapped erection.

“No! No, no, no, no!” John exclaimed, covering himself with his hands and half crouching to try and grasp his pyjamas and pull them back up. “No! Sherlock…for…for fuck sake! Stop this, this is…this is…just…”

“I’m not gay,” Sherlock told him suddenly when John crouched a little lower in a vain attempt to cover himself back up. “Not really. I’ve not even done this before, but I know you. I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you. I’ve heard you. I know what you’re like and what you like. I am good with my mouth and hands, and you know I am because you also watch me. And I’ve had a brilliant control over my gag reflex for years. I was bored—so I tried sword swallowing.”

“Sword…swallowing?” John repeated, fumbling and flushing and then glaring. 

“I saw it on the television and thought to try it, though I wasn’t allowed swords so I was forced to use other objects—And when I say I have control over it, I merely mean I can ignore it. Reflexes are involuntary and can happen without deliberate effort.”

“Why are we having this conversation?” John hissed, awkwardly trying to keep a hold of his exposed crotch and reach for his pyjama bottoms at the same time.

“Just clearing some things up,” Sherlock mumbled, watching him and then unexpectedly leaning forwards to kiss John on the mouth.

John spluttered and shot up and away from him, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, “What the bloody hell—?”

With John straightened up with only one hand covering his genitals, Sherlock grabbed the remaining hand and used it to tug off the condom before he swooped in, touched his lips to the bobbing head of John’s penis, and then sucked him suddenly and deeply into his mouth and half down his throat.

“Ah! Fuck!” John cried out loudly, knocking his head against the door forcefully and then grabbing fistfuls of Sherlock’s curls. He shivered with an unconscious whine and gasped when Sherlock pushed his tongue up along the underside of his length.

“John?” Annie called in sudden worry. “John, are you okay? Where are you?”

John bucked and his entire body gushed with sudden heat, his emotions mixing and shifting, and his focus blurring when he glanced down to see Sherlock’s lips wrapped around his flushed skin. Sherlock tilted his head slowly, pushed the head of John’s cock obscenely against the inside of his cheek, and then looked up at John as he pulled John’s hips forwards and took the entire length of John leisurely, pushing his nose into John’s pelvis. John groaned deeply and trembled, then gripped and clawed at Sherlock’s head as Sherlock swallowed around him and applied the perfect amount of suction.

“Fuh-fuck…fuck!God, yes,” John moaned, writhing and rutting into Sherlock’s mouth and throat wildly for a few seconds, before he tensed and choked in unexpected orgasm, spurting so violently down Sherlock’s throat that it made him hiss and thrust, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Sherlock coughed wetly for a brief moment and John twitched with another moan, thrusting into Sherlock’s throat and tightening his hold on his head, until Sherlock forcefully removed his fingers and pulled back, sucking the overly sensitive skin of John’s cock as he did so. John huffed, slightly delirious, and stumbled awkwardly sideways when Sherlock pushed him and got to his feet. John watched him through the uncontrollable fluttering of his eyelids as Sherlock licked his lips, straightened out his clothes, pushed a hand through his hair, and then opened the bedroom to with a forced smile.

Vaguely, John heard him talking to Annie, and then the sound of the front door a few moments later, and then Sherlock wandered back to John and placed a glass of water near his crumpled form.

“I’m going to Bart’s,” Sherlock informed him, voice thick and deep and rumbling. “Molly has a disfigured foetus for me. I want tea when I get back.”

John frowned and then scowled, closing his eyes in a burst of embarrassment and mortification when Sherlock walked out and shut the door behind him, leaving John slumped on the floor of Sherlock’s bedroom with his pyjama bottoms twisted around his ankles and a discarded condom a few feet away from his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback fuels me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late reply (I shall be saying this in my other stories too, I bet), but I was without the internet for a short time and couldn't update.
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as he heard Sherlock return, John was out of his chair immediately with his arms rigidly pressed at his sides and his fingers clenching and unclenching as he tried to fight down the simmering anger and embarrassment that had threatened to overtake him. He stared intensely at the door as it opened and Sherlock stepped in holding a jar in one hand. He looked at John for a moment and then grimaced with annoyance and shrugged off his coat.

“I suppose this is where you tell me, again; that you’re not gay; that you never wanted it; that whatever response you did have was to do with that woman you were shagging mere moments ago; and that you never want it to happen again?” Sherlock drawled in a monotone that made John see red.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s about it,” John said in a clipped tone. “I should hit you, you know. I should…bloody…throttle you!”

“What on earth for?” Sherlock asked in confusion.

John gaped at him and then growled, pointing at him tersely, “For what you just did to me, you complete and utter bellend!”

Sherlock set down the jar with the disfigured foetus floating in it and then strolled over to stand inches away from John’s finger, “John,” he sighed, giving him a look as if he was all sorts of stupid. “You—”

“If you say that I wanted it, I will strangle you,” John seethed, dropping his hand and clenching his fists. “I said I didn’t want it! I never wanted it! You forced it on me and you know it!”

“Hardly.” Sherlock scoffed, eyeing John’s posture and then tilting his head with a small squint. “John…you followed me and then—”

“To confront you for your…your voyeurism! Twice, you’ve sneaked in to watch me in some sort of sexual act, Sherlock. Twice! And, don’t get me started on the blowjob thing.” John said loudly, and then blushing and poking Sherlock roughly in the chest when the urge to do something, to touch him in some way, became too much. “Nor that…that guessing thing you do, which you think is so bloody hilarious! Yes, bravo, you can deduce what a woman is about to do to me sexually, have a trophy!”

Sherlock snorted, “Sneaked? I didn’t sneak, John. I live here, unless that’s somehow escaped your notice?—And you could have fought me off, you could have punched me, kicked me, head-butted me, anything, but you didn’t. You aren’t a weakling, John. I know you can fight me and do quite a bit of damage, if you wanted to.”

“You’re supposed to be my best friend! I didn’t want to hurt you!” John shouted, pushing on Sherlock’s shoulders. “However, right now, in this moment, I think I might overlook that!”

“Go on then. Hit me,” Sherlock told him, before he swayed forwards and pushed against John’s hands. “But I know I wasn’t wrong. I’m hardly ever wrong. And I believe, that if I had been, you would have punched me right in the gob…instead, you fumbled, let me close, followed me, even when you knew what I was going to do…what you wanted me to do…”

“No!” John rebuffed, glancing at his hands on the dark, tight fabric of Sherlock’s shirt. “No!”

“You know, the first time, was an accident. Finding you, receiving…what the woman thought was suitable pleasure, on my chair; was quite a surprise. I didn’t expect to find you doing that, there. I knew you had a woman around, but I thought you would take her to your room. Like you normally do.”

“The second one, I did! Yet you still found a way to…be there! Demanding tea, no less!” John cried. “And if it was a surprise with the first, why the bloody hell didn’t you piss off? You stayed, you chewed on that damn cupcake, and you stayed! You watched! You…deduced! Lewdly, I might add!”

Sherlock waved a missive hand, “I was bored. She was rubbish. I could easily read her, so I did, for something to do.”

“And Annie?”

“Who?”

“The most recent one, the one you…you…”

“Oh. She was just the same. They’re all dull, John. So incredibly dull,” Sherlock complained, slowly looking down at John’s hands still on his chest. “You don’t need to look elsewhere if you need something. That’s all I’m telling you.”

John yanked his hands away as if they’d been snapped with electricity and Sherlock loomed closer, grabbing one of his wrists, “No! No…I don’t want—what on earth is this, Sherlock? You…you’re telling me you’d want a relationship with me?”

Sherlock pulled a face and shook his head, “No. What I’m saying is I’ll do anything to keep you, and if you need sexual gratification to remain at my side, then I shall give it to you. Willingly. I know when you need it and what you need, and I’m experienced enough to give it to you, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m not gay,” John gritted through his teeth, trying to shake Sherlock’s hand free and just ending up making him grip higher and tighter on his arm. “Let. Go.”

“Must we put labels on everything? Why can’t people just like a person for who they are? What does it matter what gender I am? I…care for you. I see you for who you are, what you can do, it doesn’t matter to me if you’re male or not…” Sherlock mumbled.

“Yeah, right!” John laughed mockingly. “You hate women. You think they’re conniving! You think they’re dangerous and manipulative! If I were a woman, you wouldn’t look twice at me! You’d not even want me as a flatmate—and of course it matters what gender you are! I’m not saying I don’t…like you, Sherlock, I do, you’re my friend, but…but sexually…there’s nothing there! As selfish as this might sound, looks do matter. You need to find the person somewhat sexually pleasing if you want to…to…have sex with them! If I don’t find someone appealing in that regard, then I have no urge to do more than…than hug them!” 

Sherlock sighed impatiently, “First of all, you’re wrong. Looks don’t matter. Neither does sex. Not everyone is as sex-crazed as you are, or as you think you are—”

John shoved Sherlock back by his stomach with a huff of anger, “Let go, and get back! Why are you so close? Why do you…linger like that? It’s annoying!”

“Distracting?”

“Shut up!”

Sherlock let John go but stepped close, “How about this then…what if you are allowed to have women, seeing as you find them so…pleasing—”

“Allowed?”

“—but when they fail to give you what you want, which they will, you come to me? Or…I can keep watching you…you like that…and I think I like that.”

“I don’t like that, I hate that! Aren’t you paying any attention? I don’t want you watching me, I don’t want you touching me sexually, and I certainly don’t want you sucking me off!”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean?” John asked his voice pitched a little high in frustration. 

“I made you orgasm, didn’t I?”

“I…that wasn’t because—”

“And quicker and stronger than that first woman did. Or any woman, for that matter. Correct?” Sherlock pried, arching one eyebrow and then stepping closer when John took a sudden, shaking, step back. “You got more aroused with the second woman when I was in the room…even she noticed…”

John shook his head, “No! No, I was angry! When you’re angry, you tense up, she only felt that…I wasn’t…wasn’t…”

“Your erection didn’t dwindle whilst you were in my presence and it certainly didn’t when I put it in my mouth,” Sherlock stated, his voice a low, quivering purr. “I felt how much you enjoyed it, John. How much you…ached, for it.”

“N-no…no,” John said, swallowing with sudden difficulty and blushing, as he took another step back. “No…I was already…close…before, so any sort of friction and attention would have…have set me off! Something warm and tight was over me…what did you expect? It was nothing to do with you, personally! Nothing! N-nothing!”

“Really?” Sherlock breathed, straightening to his full height pretentiously. 

“Really!”

Sherlock cocked his head aside faintly and then lifted one of his hands, touching his mouth with his fingertips lightly, teasingly, before he slipped his index finger into his mouth with a slow push. Sherlock then, very deliberately, began pushing his finger in and out, rubbing it against his lips at the same moment. 

“…What are you doing?” John asked with a frown. “Stop that.”

Sherlock quirked his mouth and added his middle finger with a faint breath, sucking on the digits and moving them in and out, over and over, his lips becoming shiny with saliva. He added his ring finger with a low vibration of breath and tipped his head a little, exposing his throat as he swallowed.

“Stop it!” John growled, grabbing Sherlock’s arm and yanking his fingers out wetly, spraying a little of his cheek with Sherlock’s spittle. John was breathing hard and trembling, and he clenched his jaw, overcome with uneasiness and a burning heat that throbbed behind his eyes, when Sherlock liked his lips to speak.

“You like my mouth. You always have. The only reason you came close to orgasm with that woman in the sitting room so easily was because you were thinking about my mouth, not hers. I saw you look. I saw the effect it had on you. So I…helped you along with my little deduction game,” Sherlock whispered lowly, eyes intently shifting over John’s expression. “And if I had stayed in your bedroom with you and the second woman…no doubt you would have…enjoyed yourself more whilst staring at my mouth too. But instead, you chose to have, to feel, not merely to watch. So you went after me knowing I’d go to my bedroom, and knowing what I was again offering you by doing so. You came willingly…both into my room and into my mouth.”

The smug smirk that crossed Sherlock’s face as he uttered the last several words, made John’s cheek twitch, “Stop talking.”

“Why?” Sherlock chuckled, leaning ever closer to John’s face. “You like my voice too. It’s always made your cock twitch—”

John grunted loudly and grasped handfuls of Sherlock’s shirt, pushing him back until he hit a wall with a hard thud that pushed the breath from Sherlock’s lungs. Grinding his teeth and shaking, John tightened his hold on Sherlock’s shirt so roughly that the straining buttons creaked and then suddenly popped free, scattering at his feet. Sherlock jolted and his gaze flitted and roamed over the floor in surprise, then dropped to the uncovered skin of his chest from between the gaping sides of his shirt. Sherlock’s skin was smooth and pale, and John glared at it and slapped his hand into Sherlock’s sternum to watch the mark redden and blotch nastily.

“John!” Sherlock said in shock, scowling at him with a twist of his mouth. John saw the moment Sherlock took a breath to speak again and grabbed his hair to turn the words into a gasp, tugging him down at an uncomfortable angle and then dragging him across the room. Sherlock stumbled and struggled, gruffly baring his teeth in discomfort and gripping at John’s wrist with strong fingers.

John turned and dropped into Sherlock’s chair purposely, then dragged Sherlock down to his knees between John’s legs with a violent twist of his curls, yanking and shoving Sherlock’s grimacing face into his crotch with a shuddering breath. Sherlock stiffened and flicked his gaze to where the shape of John’s erection nudged his cheek and chin, and then tried to look up, but John wrenched his head aside and angled it to force Sherlock’s mouth into the fabric of his pyjama bottoms. The bloom of heat from Sherlock’s exhale made John lift his hips up dazedly, dropping his head back for a moment before he reached down with his other hand to free his penis, watching it smack Sherlock in the face, narrowly missing poking him in the eye.

He tensed with a sudden clench of panic and embarrassment at the sight, but spoke with a dark, rasping voice, “Go on then.”

Sherlock twitched and adjusted his position on his knees, lifting his hands in a soft, passive gesture, “John—”

John pulled Sherlock’s head by his hair and positioned his hardening erection against Sherlock’s cringing mouth, prodding it into his plump bottom lip and squeezing his fistful of curls until Sherlock opened his mouth with a pained cry. John pushed up passed his lips a little too quickly and Sherlock coughed and gagged, then shuddered, grabbing at John’s arm and hand to try and vehemently remove him, but John only tightened his grip and bucked up into Sherlock’s mouth and down his throat with a huff, staring down at him with wide eyes.

Sherlock convulsed and then exhaled deeply through his nose, gripping John’s knees, and John watched with sudden fascination as Sherlock’s cheeks flushed and he stuttered out a moan.

“Yeah,” John whispered, unsure of exactly why he said it, as he loosened his hold and urged Sherlock up and off of his cock. Sherlock gasped wetly and breathed hard for a few seconds, before he swallowed, licked his lips, and angled to take John again with a breathily eager sound. John groaned quietly and pushed up into his mouth again, staring as Sherlock’s lips stretched around his disappearing shaft and as Sherlock’s blush leaked down his throat. 

Slowly, John thrust into Sherlock’s willing mouth, panting and stroking the side of Sherlock’s face with one hand as he guided his head down with the other, scratching lightly at Sherlock’s scalp and then carding his hand through his hair to cup his nape and twirl his fingers around the soft curls there. Sherlock arched into the touch and increased suction, swallowing purposely around him and lathering him with his tongue hungrily.

It took longer to feel the teasing fingers of orgasm than the time pervious, since Sherlock seemed to be just as lost in the act as John was, and so John allowed himself to relish the sensation of being in Sherlock’s mouth and against Sherlock’s tongue, rutting and thrusting into him lustily, panting aloud when Sherlock groaned and the vibrations surrounded his erection. He angled Sherlock’s head a little, to get a better look, and trembled with a rough thrust when Sherlock’s eyelids fluttered open. Sherlock’s eyes were dark and glazed, his pupils extremely dilated, and John cupped his jaw to feel the head of his cock jut out from Sherlock’s cheek when Sherlock deliberately pushed it aside.

“God…” John moaned, bucking a little uncontrollably into him for a moment, and then suddenly pulling Sherlock off and tilting his head up. “I’m gonna come all over your face and your stupid, bloody, chair…”

Sherlock blinked slowly at him and then frowned, following John’s hand as he gripped himself and stroked with urgency, aiming his penis towards Sherlock’s slanted face, which was flushed red with arousal. John grunted with pleasure and then couldn’t seem to stop himself as he leaned forwards and down to kiss Sherlock quickly before he arched and pressed the suddenly, twitching, gushing tip of his cock to Sherlock’s mouth and cheeks, streaking his flushed skin. Sherlock tensed and closed his eyes, then quivered and bucked roughly with a strangled gasp, grasping John’s arm and knee whilst his hips unexpectedly jerked.

John let go of himself, delighted to see an arc of ejaculate splatter the chair, and smeared his fingers through the mess on Sherlock’s face, rubbing it into his skin with an oddly, strong, possessive and animalistic action. When John fully let go, Sherlock slumped backwards on his knees and then shifted to sit on his backside instead, panting and staring up at John with fluttering eyes and a trembling of his hips. There was an obvious patch of wetness at Sherlock’s crotch and John gaped at it with a rush of mortification, panic, and some other emotion, which seemed to swell up from his chest. 

It was only when Sherlock scrambled up to his feet and disappeared into his room that John realised he was suffering from a panic-attack, and he panted and gripped Sherlock’s chair until it passed, rushing to his own bedroom when his legs starting working properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback fuels me!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me!


End file.
